


Movie Night

by liggytheauthoress



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: All the cuddles, Cuddles, Gen, can be read as platonic or romantic or whatever the hell you want really, the point is cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liggytheauthoress/pseuds/liggytheauthoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Joan doesn't quite know how to describe it - this odd little cohabitation they've all formed - but she does know that she likes it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

Looking back, Joan’s pretty sure she never would have expected to find herself where she is right now.

Which, to be specific, is on a sofa in a fairly nondescript (on the outside, at least) New York brownstone, in what can only be described as a cuddle pile, one that consists of her, one consulting detective, one member of the NYPD, and one ex-car thief. Also a tortoise.

Just an average Friday night at home, really.

She sometimes wonders if it should feel awkward or weird, but in the end, she always decides she doesn’t care. Joan doesn’t quite know how to describe it - this odd little cohabitation they’ve all formed - but she does know that she likes it.

She briefly tears her eyes away from the James Bond movie they’re watching in order to look at her boys (who, as far as she knows, have no idea that she privately refers to them as “her boys”, and she’d like to keep it that way for now, thank you very much).

Sherlock has claimed one end of the couch, curled up like a cat with his head cushioned on Joan’s lap. She’s playing with his hair, and she’s pretty sure she heard a purr a couple of minutes ago, which doesn’t actually surprise her in the least, because hell, it’s Sherlock. He’s got one arm draped possessively around her knees, his body language practically screaming, “Mine. My partner. Get your own,” which surprises Joan even less.

Bell is tucked against Joan’s other side, his arm thrown over the back of the couch and his hand occasionally reaching up to lightly mess with her hair. His other hand is holding the bowl of popcorn in a death grip, because he’s the only person besides Joan who can be trusted to hold the food without eating all of it (or setting it on fire, or sending it flying across the room with a miniature catapult made out of whatever items Sherlock can reach without moving from the couch).

Alfredo is using Bell’s shoulder as a backrest, with his legs splayed out over the arm of the couch. His hat is resting on his stomach and currently contains a leaf of lettuce and an extremely contented tortoise. As always, Clyde is the only one other than Joan who hasn’t been talking nonstop since the opening credits. Between Bell and Alfredo criticizing everything from the stupidity of the bad guys to Bond’s inability to go anywhere without causing thousands of dollars in property damage and Sherlock making deductions about pretty much everything, it’s amazing Joan has any idea what’s even going on in the movie at all (thank god for subtitles).

Nope, she definitely would not have expected to find herself here.

She also wouldn’t have expected to be so ridiculously happy about it.


End file.
